


tatemae/honne

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 05:57:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12550684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: no story. just moments from the show strung together to make a point.





	tatemae/honne

"there is no singing in supernatural!" dean's objection cuts sam short.  
  
marie and maeve share a look of confusion. "well, this is maries _interpretation_..."  
  
that gets maeve a laugh. "well..." dean is struggling to explain himself. "well, i mean, if there was... singing... you know... and that's a big if! it would be classic rock. not this... andrew floyd webber crap-"  
  
"andrew lloyd webber," sam quietly corrects him.  
  
"what?"

 

"so, you're here. why?" tessa asks him. "just love musical theater?"

"only if it's fiddler," dean retorts.

 

"you know, i have expressed some differencess of opinion regarding this particular version of supernatural. but tonight, it is all about marie's vision. this is marie's supernatural. so i want you to get out there, and i want you to stand as close as she wants you to, and i want you to put as much sub and add text as you possibly can. there is no other road. no other way. no day but today."

"did he just quote _rent_?"

 

* * *

 

"alright," sam says. "let's check out the moondoor site, see if lance's story checks out." he feeds the name to the search enginge. "welcome to moondoor," he reads from the page. "michigan's largest larping game."

"and i thought we needed to get out more," dean quips.

 

dean comes in carrying a bunch of shopping bags.

"what the hell is all that?" bobby requires.

"we are going native. got to blend in!" dean seems excited at the thought, handing sam a large _wally's western world_ bag.

"uh, no," sam winces. "thanks. i'm fine."

"sam."

"dean, i can-," sam pleads, gesturing at his clothes. "i can wear this."

"and look like a spaceman?"

"look, just because you're obsessed with all that wild west stuff-"

"no, i'm not," dean returns lamely.

"you have a fetish."

"shut up."

 

dean chuckles to himself as another picture of lance larping appears on screen. "it actually looks kind of awesome."

(the look sam gives him wipes the smile of his face.)

 

* * *

 

"what i said earlier, about mom and dad," sam begins an apology.

raising his hand, dean signals him to stop. "no chick flick moments."

sam chuckles and nods in agreement. "alright, jerk."

"bitch."

 

"we got a new gig or what?"

"maybe," sam informs him. "oasis plains, oklahoma - not far from here. a gas company employee, dustin burwash, supposedly died from kreutzfeldt-jakob."

"huh?"

"human mad cow disease," sam clears up.

"mad cow... wasn't that on oprah?"

"you watch oprah?"

dean doesn't reply.

 

"sounds like she danced her own feet off. might be our kind of thing."

"dancers," dean muses. "they are toe shows full of crazy."

"you-," sam is startled by the offhand comment. "and you would know this how?"

"i saw black swan. _twice._ "

 

the motel room is filthy. dean is sitting on the bed, eyes on the tv.

"what are you watching?" sam bothers, unfamiliar with the opening song.

"hospital show. dr. sexy, md. i think it's based on a book."

"when did you hit menopause?"

"it's called channel surfing," dean defends himself. he gets up and turns the tv off.

 

"you know, it's bad enough that they're ganking people, wearing our mugs, but now this? have us driving around in this..." dean struggles to articulate his disgust. "this kaboodle, while baby's on lockdown."

"it's temporary, dean," sam reminds him.

"nobody puts baby in a corner," dean laments.

"you- you know that's a line from-"

"swayze movie!" of course he knows. "swayze always gets a pass!"

"right..."

 

"no chick flick moments. come on!"

sam moves to take the keys but then stops himself. he clears his throat, considering. he reaches out again. "you love chick flicks."

dean chuckles. "yeah, you're right. i do."

 

* * *

 

a very tired sam enters the room.

dean looks up, taking in his brother's messy long hair. "man, i'm telling you. give me five minutes with a clipper, and-"

"oh, shut up."

 

"hey," gwen greets him.

"hi," dean returns.

"my god," she says, inspecting. "you have delicate features for a hunter."

"excuse me?"

 

"okay." maybe the time travel story checks out. "if you're me, tell me something only i would know."

dean grins. "rhonda hurley," he offers. "we were, uh, nineteen. she made us try on her panties. they were pink. and satiny. and you know what? we kind of liked it."

"touché. so, what, zach zapped you up here to see how bad it gets?" there is no further argument.

 

* * *

 

"i told you," dean reminds sam. "i went through maurice's pockets. i found an address and took a shot."

"i never saw you go through maurice's pockets." sam remains sceptical.

"what are you talking about? i don't see half of the nerdy stuff that you do. it doesn't mean that you don't do nerdy stuff."

 

"hermione," sam ponders. "we, uh, alright, did hermione run when serius black was in trouble or when voldemort attacked hogwarts?"

"seriously?" dean complains in the background.

"shut up."

"no," charlie says. "of course not."

"what did she do?" urges sam.

"she kicked ass. she practically saves harry in every book. and then she ends up with the wrong-"

"uh, stay on track," sam quickly shots her down. "so she kicked ass, right? so, then, what are you gonna do?"

"i'm gonna kick it in the ass."

"good girl," says sam.

"you go, dumble-dork!" cheers dean.

 

"i know where we can find one. march 5, 1861. sunrise, wyoming. we'll star trek iv  this bitch."

"i only watched deep space nine," bobby lets dena know. sam just shrugs.

"it's like i don't even know you guys anymore," dean complains. " _star trek iv?_ save the whales?"

this time bobby and sam both shrug.

 

* * *

 

"say, why don't you get out of the car and we'll talk a little?" the man suggests.

dean chuckles nervously. "well, you are a handsome devil, but i don't swing that way. sorry."

 

"of course, the most troubling question is, why do these people assume we're gay?"

"well, you're kinda butch," sam offers. "probably think you're overcompensating."

dean mocks a laugh. "right..."

 

...

 

**Author's Note:**

> not a native speaker or writer. still getting the hang of this whole dialog punctuation thing.


End file.
